Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven #1) by J.R. Ward

“A clean liver. I’m mean, not the organ. Like, your life.”

Annnnnnd this was why she studied behavior in other species. ’Cuz she needed tips herself.

“I am now.” He linked his hands and leaned forward, the chair letting out a groan at the load shifting. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. I’m not here for long, and maybe that takes me out of the running. I’m a drifter and my employment history is going to show that. But it’s also going to tell you that I’m reliable, I do good work, and I’m not a lot of trouble.”

“How long is not long?”

“I dunno, through the warm season and into the fall. Maybe past the winter, but by next spring, I’ll be moving on. If that makes me unattractive, I understand.”

Even the ugly stick for a week couldn’t get you to homely, she thought.

“Well, we’d certainly rather have someone who’d be willing to stick around, but that’s not a deal breaker. And I’m glad you’re being up front about it. Tell me, where did you last work?”

“Over in Glens Falls, for an apartment complex. And before that it was up in Maine.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “I gave my paperwork to—”

Candy reappeared with a folder, like she’d been listening out in the hall. “His application and his résumé, Ms. Susi.”

As Lydia took what was delivered with a glare, the older woman jogged her eyebrows and took her pink-haired peanut gallery back out front.

When they were alone again, Lydia made a show of looking at what she’d been given. High school education. Handyman jobs, at apartment and condo complexes. An elementary school. A mall in Jersey. No big cities. No jobs that lasted longer than eight to ten months, but no gaps in employment, either.

“Looks like you’ve stayed in the New England area.”

“I prefer the cold, so getting me any further south than Pennsylvania is tough. Oh, and yeah, sure, I’ll take a drug test and agree to a background check. I have nothing to hide.”

He’d handwritten the responses on the application form, everything in neat, block letters.

“So you like cold weather?” she asked.

“Yes, and I need to be outdoors. That’s why what you’re looking for is good for me. I can take care of your trails, your buildings, your vehicles. I can handle anything from plumbing to electric to Sheetrock.”

“A Dan of all trades.”

“You got it. And I’m not afraid of long hours, either.”

“You were born in Rochester, huh?”

“Yup. But we moved around a lot. Mom had to take what she could find for work. She was pretty much on her own with me. Small family, you know the drill.”

Lydia looked up. There was no emotion showing on his face, but like that would have been appropriate? He was here for a job, not an amateur therapy session.

“I come from a small family, too,” she murmured.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Just my granddad and me. We stayed put, though, until he died.”

“I’m sorry you lost him. Where’d you grow up? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“The Pacific Northwest, actually.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re here. You like the trees and the mountains.”

Lydia smiled. “Yup, exactly. I’m an outdoor person, too.”

“What do you do here?”

“I’m like the census taker for wolves. I track the pack numbers and locations throughout the preserve, and study patterns of behavior from feeding to breeding. I also work with our vet to monitor health. The gray wolf population all but died out in the Adirondacks and Upstate New York in the late eighteen hundreds, but they were reintroduced here on the preserve in the sixties when the balance of everything tilted.”

“Balance?”

“Biological systems are all about equilibrium. You take one piece off the table, everything rebalances in ways that are not always beneficial. The best thing to do is leave nature alone. Humans don’t like to do that, though—” She stopped herself. “Sorry, I’m on my soap box.”

“Don’t apologize. I like your passion.”

Lydia cleared her throat. “Do you have any questions for me? About the job?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, how do you keep tabs on them?”

“Them? Oh, the wolves, you mean. They have GPS chips, just like domesticated dogs, and we have monitoring cameras posted around the preserve. I also get out in the field and use drones from high altitudes. We have two thousand acres here so it’s a lot to keep track of.”

“That’s really interesting.”

“You’re humoring me.”

“I have no sense of humor, actually.”

Lydia laughed. “What?”

“No, it’s true. I can’t tell jokes and I rarely smile.”

Closing the folder, she frowned and sat forward. “That’s really a shame.”

“It is what it is. I have other skills.”

“You never laugh? Ever.”

“No, not really.” He shrugged those powerful shoulders. “It’s just a gene I don’t have.”

“I’ve never thought of humor as a recessive trait. Were your parents also comedy-challenged?”